


I've loved you three Christmas' now, honey, but I want 'em all

by weestarmeggie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, Christmas Party, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Granger extended family, Mutual Pining, Plural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21803776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weestarmeggie/pseuds/weestarmeggie
Summary: Harry has been attending the Granger's family Christmas for three years now but maybe this year he'll get something more than a tie clip.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 250
Collections: Harmony Advent Collection 2019





	I've loved you three Christmas' now, honey, but I want 'em all

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into a solely Harmony fic and I'm nervous as hell about it so I hope you all enjoy. Alpha and beta thanks to Riverwriter who I blame entirely for my descent into this pairing <3 Any additional mistakes are my own. And yes I did adjust a Taylor Swift lyric for the purpose of a title.

Hermione snorted in amusement when she returned to her office after a long lunch with Ginny, to find Harry flicking through half a dozen Christmas gift catalogues.

“What do you think of this?” He asked, pushing an earmarked Le Creuset brochure across her desk without looking up.

“I think my mother expects nothing other than your attendance,” she teased, dropping into her chair and rolling her eyes when she caught sight of the golfing brochure her best friend was frowning at. She leant forward and snatched it from him, sighing in the process. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” she repeated. “Harry. Buying my dad a brand new set of golf clubs isn’t going to make him love you.”

He huffed at her and sat back in his chair. “I don’t understand. Parents love me Hermione. I’m polite, well dressed, neat.”

“Handsome.”

He grinned roguishly at her and she swallowed in an attempt to rid herself of that fluttery feeling she found herself experiencing in his presence more and more often lately. “Anyway,” she said, waving a hand dismissively, “my point is you don’t have to get my parents anything. Just being there is gift enough.”

He sighed dramatically and stood, rounding her desk and pulling her from her chair and wrapping her in his embrace. “Fine. But I’m picking you up and we’re arriving together. I’m not going to give your father any more reasons to hate me.” 

She grinned into his chest and resisted the urge to breathe him in before she pulled back, leant up on her tiptoes, buffed a kiss across his cheek and pushed him away. “Ok. I’ll be done at four. Meet me at six?”

He rolled his eyes, walking backwards out of her office before flashing her a grin and making his way back into the maze of offices that made up the DMLE.

Hermione dropped back into her chair, banged her head against her desk half a dozen times and groaned. 

For the past three years her mother had been nudging her and making sly comments about how perfect she and Harry would be as a couple and each time Hermione had snorted and dismissed her comments, insisting that it was never going to happen and that she and Harry just didn’t see each other like that.

She didn’t doubt that her mother would take one look at her this evening and just  _ know  _ that that wasn’t true anymore.

* * *

Harry stood outside of Hermione’s front door and took a deep breath. 

It was getting harder and harder for him to be around her, simply because every time he saw her he wanted to scoop her up in his arms and snog her. And now.

Now he was about to spend the weekend surrounded by her entire family, dodging teasing comments about how lovely the pair of them were together and sly digs about proposals. For the past three years he’d brushed them off with a laugh but now -

“Harry! What on earth are you doing just standing out here?” He startled and blinked at his best friend who was watching him with obvious amusement. A wry smile teasing the corner of her mouth. The mouth he’d been thinking - fantasising - about with increased frequency.

“Sorry.” He shook himself and grinned at her, stepping over the threshold and into her hallway. “You ready?”

She nodded and Harry watched her throat as she swallowed. “Yeah. Let’s just,” she trailed off as she wandered ahead of him into her living room, “get this over with.”

“Oh?” He laughed, “You’re not excited to spend the weekend with your incredibly large and overbearing family?”

“Shut up,” she muttered, slapping the back of her hand across his chest. “I’m sure you’re just dying to spend the weekend dealing with my father.”

“I am determined to win his approval,” he said seriously, pursed lips and all as he met her gaze. She simply smirked up at him and laced her fingers through his before apparating them to her childhood home.

* * *

To be fair to Harry, Hermione mused as she watched her father narrow his eyes at the pair of them - specifically their hands which were still interlaced - he wasn’t wrong when he said her dad didn’t like him.

Hermione couldn’t remember when he’d stopped asking after Harry and instead simply grunted in acknowledgement whenever his name came up, but as she dropped her duffle at the bottom of her bed she guessed that it might have been around the time he started coming home for Christmas with her.

“You’ll sleep here Potter. In the guest room.” Her father added pointedly. “The bathroom is in the same place it’s always been and I expect it to be the only other room you visit on this landing.”

Watching Harry swallow and nod jerkily at her father amused Hermione to no end. You’d never know that the man standing across from her had faced - and destroyed - a Dark Lord at the age of eighteen or that he was the head auror and faced danger on a daily basis.

“Of course sir.” His eyes slid to Hermione and she blushed at the way his eyes seemed to rake over her without intent before he blinked and fixed her father with  _ Witch Weekly’s _ three years running best smile. “Where else would I sleep?”

* * *

“Do you need any help?”

Her mother had been out picking up some last minute bits and pieces for the first of three parties they would be hosting over the weekend, when she and Harry had arrived, so she had managed to avoid the inquisition about their non existent relationship for a few extra hours.

“Oh hiya love,” Helen greeted over her shoulder. “When did you get here? Is Harry here?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed the kitchen snagging one of the Sainsburys bags to unpack.

“He’s in the shower. Dad’s been giving him the evil eye since we arrived.”

Helen grinned at her. “And rightly so.”

Hermione huffed and knocked over a tin of beans as she unpacked the groceries. “I told you. Harry doesn’t look at me like that.”

Her mother said nothing and it was only when Hermione felt goosebumps erupt over her arms that she realised she’d been watching her.

“But you do.” 

“What?”

“You said,” she started slowly, turning and leaning against the worktop to look at her daughter. “That Harry doesn’t look at you like that. What do you mean? Do you —”

Hermione slammed the cupboard shut and turned to glare at her mother. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You do!” Helen squealed and Hermione huffed as she dropped into a chair and began picking at the table cloth.

“It doesn’t matter if I do or not. Which I’m not saying I do. Because Harry,” she lifted and pointed a finger at her mother’s smug expression, “does not.”

“Harry doesn’t what?” Her father asked, entering the kitchen and flicking the kettle.

Her mother opened her mouth but Hermione stood quickly, her chair scraping across the tile, and glanced pointedly at her mother. “Nothing. I’m going to ask him if he wants some tea.”

“Ask him if he wants something to eat before the party,” Helen shouted after her, grinning.

“Hermione.” Her father called after her. “He’s still in the shower.”

She ducked her head back around the doorframe, eyebrows furrowed. “So?” She said, before she traipsed up the stairs and knocking once on the bathroom door, entered.

“Hermione?”

“Yeah it’s just me. Mum wants to know if you’re hungry?”

“I’m fine.” 

Hermione hummed and leaned against the door, the sound of the shower helping to relax her and it was only when Harry — dripping wet, with only a towel wrapped around his waist — brushed his hand over her arm that she realised she’d fallen into a daze.

“Harry!” She blushed. “God I’m so sorry. I’ll leave you to —”

He wrapped his hand around her wrist, stilling her. “Are you ok?”

She nodded, looking anywhere but at him and fumbled behind her for the door handle. “Yeah of course. I’ll let you get dressed,” she mumbled, stumbling out of the bathroom and into her room, face first onto her bed. Crookshanks jumped up beside her and she frowned at him, reaching a hand out to stroke her familiar.

“I‘m so fucked Crooks,” she murmured. 

Crookshanks meowed in what Hermione assumed was agreement.

* * *

“You have to help me,” Harry whispered as he approached Hermione. “Your gran has a bustle of mistletoe and has spent the past twenty minutes trying to trap me in a corner,” he huffed.

Hermione snorted into her mulled wine and Harry pouted at her. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Hermione teased. “All those old ladies in the Ministry have been trying to trap you under some for the past three weeks and you’ve managed to successfully dodge them.”

“I’d hardly say Eliza Greengrass is an old lady,” he said thoughtfully drinking his beer before he smirked at Hermione. “Sabina Zabini isn’t either.”

Hermione nudged him in the ribs. “I’ll be sure to let Daphne Malfoy know you’re to become her new step-father. Blaise too.” She added after a moment, laughing.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” he sighed dramatically, snaking an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re a terrible best friend.”

Hermione averted her gaze and met her mother’s stare across the room and swallowing roughly, drained her drink. “Yep. That’s me. Your best friend.”

She was about to make an escape from the tense silence that lingered between them when her grandmother appeared, bustle of mistletoe still in hand.

“Oh goodness! Just look at you two.” She said dreamily, smiling up at the pair of them. “Such young love.” Hermione’s eyes widened in horror and she quickly stepped out of Harry’s embrace.

“We’re not —”

“Oh sweetheart,” she cooed. “You don’t have to lie to me. I know your father is reluctant to see his baby girl grown up but you’re a young woman now and,” she turned to grin at Harry. “You’ve found a wonderful young man to love.” She patted Hermione’s arm and smiled softly up at her. 

Hermione stared down at her gran and felt her face flush with embarrassment, wondering if she prayed hard enough would the world swallow her up whole and help her escape the moment. 

“Excuse me,” she said instead, stepping around them and escaping out the back. Harry watched her go with a frown before the little old lady in front of him held the mistletoe over her head, and with a laugh he leant down and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

* * *

He found her outside lying on the trampoline and staring up at the stars.

“Bit old for a trampoline aren’t you?” He asked, climbing up and joining her. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Warming charm.” 

“Ahhh.”

They lay there, side by side and just listened to the party wind down. When Harry’s hand brushed hers, she shifted and wrapped her arms around herself. 

“Are you ok?” He asked and Hermione closed her eyes and nodded.

“Yeah. Sorry for my gran —”

“It’s ok,” he shrugged, leaning up on one elbow to look down at her. “I mean. We both know I'm a catch,” he added smugly.

She sighed and opened her eyes to look up at him, the back porch light illuminating him above her and without thought, licked her lips and swallowed.

“Yeah.” She whispered, her breath hitching when his eyes flickered from hers to her mouth and back.

“Harry, I —”

“Hermione?”

She bolted up at the sound of her mother and stood quickly, wiping her hands down the length of her dress in an effort to straighten it. “Yeah?” She answered.

Helen looked back at Harry and winced. “Sorry love. But your gran’s leaving and —” She trailed off.

“I’m coming now.” She said and moved quickly off the trampoline, leaving a confused Harry behind.

* * *

Hermione was gone when Harry came downstairs the next morning but Helen Granger was sitting at the dining table with a full breakfast laid out in front of her. 

“Hermione put it under stasis before she left,” she said when she spotted him hovering in the doorway. “She didn’t want to wake you up.”

Harry nodded and dropped into the seat beside her. “Thanks. This looks great.” Helen waved a hand dismissively and watched him fill his plate before she resumed drinking her tea and flicking through the paper. “Where did she pop off to?” he added after a minute.

“Just some last minute errands and then they’re picking my sister and her husband up from the train station on the way back. Richard was supposed to go alone but...” She trailed off and rolled her eyes. Harry chugged his tea and laughed.

“Well. Can’t say I blame him. I always want Hermione to accompany me on mundane tasks,” he said conversationally, digging into his eggs, ignorant of the raised eyebrow Helen was offering him.

“Really?”

He nodded and chewed absentmindedly on a forkful of bacon. “Of course. She makes everything more fun.” She bit back a smirk and continued to drink her tea as she watched him eat. He really was quite handsome and she sighed dreamily as her thoughts drifted to what any potential children the young man in front of her and her daughter might make, would look like, only broken from her daze by the clattering of cutlery.

“How about you help me with some errands of my own?” She asked, watching as he stood and crossed to place his dishes in the dishwasher. “Unless you have plans?”

“No.” He said, yawning and turning to lean against the worktop. His t-shirt stretched across his shoulders, lifting slightly and Helen blushed and glanced away. “No plans. Put me to work,” he grinned.

_ Such beautiful grandchildren _ , she thought with a sigh.

* * *

_ “To the shop.”  _

That's what her father had said, before he’d sprang an afternoon drive into London to pick up an additional christmas present for her mother and then they’d gotten stuck in traffic and had to pick her aunt and uncle up from the train station too. 

Hermione hoped Harry wasn’t too put out by her disappearing act but then, he’d been spending some of their Christmas holidays at her house every year for the past three and she knew he got on with her mother so when they  _ finally _ arrived back home - party in full swing downstairs - she simply bolted up to her room, brushed through her hair and slipped into  _ another _ new dress that she’d picked up earlier in the day.

Her mother was waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a glass of wine and Hermione plucked it from her hand and gulped down half of it before she smiled at her mum. “How was Harry?”

Helen snorted and smirked at her daughter as she led her into the living room. “He was perfectly fine. Hello to you too,” she snarked.

Hermione blushed and took a gentler sip of her glass. “Sorry. Hello.”

“You look lovely.”

Hermione hummed noncommittally and grinned at her grandfather as she passed him before she rejoined her mum. “What did you do all day?” She asked as Helen removed some party food from the oven and began to dish it out onto platters. 

“Just some household chores. Some actual shopping—”

“Hey!” Hermione protested, tilting her glass in her mother's direction. “Don’t blame me. That’s all on Dad.”

“Likely!” She grinned, lifting the food and leading Hermione into the dining room. “Anyway. He was fine. We had a good afternoon. We had plenty to talk about.”

“Mum.”

Helen waved her obvious concerns off. “Don’t worry I didn’t say anything —”

“There’s nothing to say,” Hermione huffed into her almost empty glass.

“But Hermione love.” She looked across the table at her. “Are you sure the feelings you have aren’t mutual?”

Hermione laughed, refilled her wine from the open bottle in front of her and exited the room. Her mum almost ran into the back of her when she froze in the doorway and Hermione felt her good mood vanish as Helen asked, “what’s wrong?”

Hermione laughed bitterly and drained her glass, ignoring the incredulous look her mother was giving her and pointed - as subtly as she could manage - towards the fireplace where Harry was looking particularly cosy with her cousin Michaela. She swallowed roughly, blinked back the unbidden tears gathering in her eyes and flicked her eyes to her mum. “I told you he wasn’t interested,” she managed to croak out before she disappeared into the kitchen.

* * *

Hermione took a deep breath as she joined her parents and Harry at breakfast the next morning. She reminded herself that it wasn’t Harry’s fault that her heart had somehow managed to blur the line between platonic and romantic love and left her a weepy, pining mess.

He was her best friend and he didn’t deserve her ire, and if he was truly interested in seeing her cousin again then she’d help arrange that. It was fine.

“Well look who it is,” he teased as she joined the table. Her lips tugged up into a small smile as she plied her plate with some bacon and toast. “Where did you disappear to last night? I feel like I saw you for thirty seconds and then poof,” he clapped his hands together and she jumped in her seat, startled at his enthusiasm, “gone.”

“I wasn’t feeling well. So I just went to lay down. I saw you with Michaela though, so I’m sure you had a good night.”

“Richard dear I was wondering if you could help me in the garage for a minute,” her mother said suddenly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked with a frown, like he’d completely forgotten her parents were there.

“What?” Her father asked, looking up from his paper when Helen kicked his leg. “Now?”

“Yes now.” She stood from her chair and practically dragged her husband up with a pointed look at Hermione who only rolled her eyes in reply.

“Nothing. Just that you looked comfortable with her,” Hermione continued. “Did you invite her to tonight's party?”

“What?”

“Michaela. Did you invite her to the party tonight?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Hermione shook her head and dug into her breakfast and ignored Harry’s stare.“Whatever.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Harry asked, slipping out of his chair and coming to stand beside her. “Why are you being weird?” 

She snorted and shook her head as she took one final bite of her breakfast before abandoning it altogether.

“Just forget it.”

Harry sighed, and removing his glasses rubbed his eyes before staring pointedly at her. “Is there anything you want to do —”

“Nope.” She interrupted, ignoring the low growl that escaped him at her brushing off. She stood and with a flick of her hand vanished all the dishes to the dishwasher.

“You’re being a right bitch you know.” He declared, walking behind her as she flounced from the kitchen and began climbing the stairs. “I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve this,” he waved a hand between the two of them, “attitude.”

She stopped at her bedroom door and pressed her head against it, blew a breath out between her teeth and turned to look at the dejected look on her best friends face. “I know.” She murmured. “I’m sorry. I— I’m just sorry,” she sighed. “I’ve got a terrible headache and I should probably lie back down. You can - you should,” she corrected, “probably head back home. I doubt I’ll be much company the rest of the day or this evening.”

He stepped forward, pulled her into his arms and huffed a warm breath against the bare skin of her neck. “Don’t be silly. There’s only one party left and this is always my favourite one.” She wrapped her arms around his chest, breathed him in and nodded. 

He was right of course. They only had one more party to attend together and then they could go home and she could figure out how to rid herself of this unbearable unrequited love she had for him.

* * *

“I’m going to apologise for my godmother’s behaviour right now,” Hermione winced when the woman finally left the couch Harry and Hermione had sequestered themselves on at the beginning of the party. They were sitting no differently than they did when they were at the other’s flat and away from prying eyes, but Hermione had caught sight of more than one pleased grin and sly wink sent her way since her parents friends and Hermione’s immediate family had arrived a few hours ago.

And if Hermione had caught them well then, Harry definitely would have noticed them too.

“It was fine,” Harry laughed into her ear, his breath tickling the shell of it and Hermione had to resist the urge to squirm where she sat. “It’s not like she said anything new.”

Hermione sipped at her can of coke - she was definitely not letting her emotions get the better of her again tonight - as her eyebrows furrowing in question. “What do you mean?”

Harry chuckled and leant forward to sit his beer on the table before them. “Almost everyone at this party, and all the others I’ve ever attended with you, has been like this. People making sly comments about our  _ relationship _ ,” Hermione gulped when he actually signified air quotes with his fingers, “and asking when our wedding’s going to be. Honestly at this point I think I should just propose to get them off our backs.”

Hermione choked on her drink. “What?!”

“I’d make an excellent husband,” Harry commented and Hermione almost stroked out. She pulled her legs up and leant forwards to press the back of her hand against his forehead.

“What?!”

He flashed her a grin and she smacked his shoulder. “Harry Potter you are an arse!”

He sat back and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Aww love,” he teased, pressing his thumb into the space between her neck and her shoulder. “Do you want to marry me?”

Hermione knew he was teasing. That he’d had a few beers and one of her mother’s shady cocktails which had  _ way more  _ alcohol in it than she let on. She knew all this yet her breath still hitched and her eyes still flickered from his eyes to his lips and back again and she saw the moment he knew what he’d done because his own eyes widened and his pupils blew and —

“What? No. No of course I don’t,” she spluttered. “That would be,” she swallowed roughly, her mouth suddenly parched, “insane.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the arrival of her Granny Granger  _ and _ her bustle of mistletoe. 

“Pucker up loves,” she cooed, hovering the mistletoe above their heads and before Hermione had a chance to just  _ breathe _ , Harry was there pressing his lips firmly against hers, his tongue flicking against her closed lips seeking sanctuary and she just -

“Oh fuck,” she breathed into his mouth, opening it up to him as he proceeded to snog her right there on her parents couch, in front of a crowd of strangers, without a care in the world.

Both of them missed the smirk her grandmother sent her mother as she tottled off, mistletoe and all.

“Ahem.”

Her eyes flickered open and she pulled back, a sheepish grin already settling onto her face as she stared up at her father who only glanced pointedly between Harry’s hands - which had somehow managed to creep up and under her jumper in the few seconds they’d been snogging - and the rest of the party.

“Sir.” Harry grunted out in apology, slipping his hand instead into Hermione’s.

“Richard,” her mother and guardian angel, suddenly called, forcing her father away and leaving Hermione beet red as she cuddled into Harry’s chest.

She danced her free hand up his chest until it was nestled in his hair and smiled up at him.

“Hi.”


End file.
